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“That will not be necessary.” I told her gently. “Do not strain yourself, I can only wear one at a time. Does the king expect me to wear a different dress every day, I wonder?”
“You are the princess.” She simply said, gathering up her supplies.
“All right then. One dress a day, for the next two weeks. Can you manage that without having to overtax yourself?” The female looked gaunt, her dark hair wound into a bun, her delicate ears unadorned. But her hands…her fingers were raw, nails split, the sign of a hard life.
“Yes, my princess.” She whispered. I glanced over to Sophie.
“The princess would like an honest answer, Martine. If it is too much, tell her.” When Martine lifted her eyes to mine, I almost gagged. How many times had I looked at one of the Descendants that way? With a mix of fear and hatred and knowledge that they could crush me, without effort?
“I don’t know how much you know about my time in Varitus, Martine, but I was not a princess there.” Even Sophie perked up, and I wondered what rumors swirled among the slaves. “I was a slave to the Descendants. From the time I was born, I served. I know what it is like to want something better. And to hate not being able to have it.”
I stepped off the platform. “One dress a day. I shall speak to my father and make sure you are compensated properly, if that was not the case before. If I truly need a different gown for each appearance…then I expect to keep you in business for a very long time.”
* * *
I’d kohled my eyes,painted my lips, then went into battle.
From the absolute silence in the hall and the brooding scowl on my father’s face, I knew this was war. Not only was I several hours late—and two executions, judging by the amount of blood pooled at my father’s feet—I’d just covered up the goods he was trying to peddle to these good people.
Crux and Lyrae lurked off to one side and for the first time since I’d arrived, they took note of me, Lyrae whispering in the huge male’s ear, her eyes flashing with cruel humor.
I sank into a deep curtsy, held my position for the space of five breaths before I rose. “I am sorry for my tardiness father; it will not happen again.” His dark gaze slid over to the bench and I took my place between two well-dressed courtiers, wondering if these were the males leading the bidding.
From the disappointment on their faces as they scanned my concealed body, I’d say they were.
I hadn’t eaten—had no desire to spew my breakfast all over the floor when the killing began—and it wasn’t long before the day grew interminably long. When court was done and the crowd’s bloodlust satisfied for another day, the king offered me his arm.
“You were given dresses to wear for a specific reason, daughter.”
“And offering everything freely to these vultures is a mistake, father. Better to keep some secrets, than to have none at all.”
He didn’t break stride, but his arm tightened beneath my hand as he considered my words. “I heard the bidding is up to five million gilder.” I said softly. “Let’s see if we can get my dowry up to ten, shall we?”
“You are not at all what I expected.” He murmured. “I’d wondered, what sort of spawn my brother sired. But it appears his blood runs true.”
“It does.” Was all I said, though I was surprised he’d admit the truth so readily.
“I shall give you everything you want. I shall rally your people to war, and you can carve that white haired bastard from his throne and spike his head to the front of your Keep. Then we will talk about marrying me off.”
“Your time in Tempeste was not well spent?”
“I never want to see that place again unless it is on fire.” I couldn’t keep the spite out of my voice. “As far as your brother…I will do whatever it takes to remove him from power.”
We’d reached the outer doors, his guard closing in around us, forming a tight wall of armor and wickedly sharp spears. “I do have one request.” I lowered my voice. “I would like to learn to ride. Properly. Zorander is the best rider I know, and I would like for him to instruct me.”
“Zorander Vayle is in charge of organizing the invasion in my coming war. He does not have time to give you lessons.”
“If you expect me to ride into battle, I shall need to be well-seated on a horse. He is the best male for the job, do you not agree?”
The king stepped away from me and for the first time, really looked at me. As something other than a female of breeding age.
“Think of it, father. The Shadow King and his wronged daughter, leading your armies into Caladrius. You can paint me as an avenging angel, and your brother as the villain who took your child and sold her into slavery. Play this right, and your people will follow you anywhere.”
“I thought you were a slave in Varitus?” He asked slowly, his dark eyes searching my face. “How is it you know whatthe peoplewould do?”
“Because I was one of them, once.” I explained. “They might not understand court intrigue and political alliances, but they know all about vengeance. For that, they will respect you.”
“Two hours a day for two weeks.” I dipped my head to hide my relief at his decree. “Two weeks is all I can spare, for the general must ready the army in time. Learn quickly, Anaria, if I paint you as their champion, you will have to carry your part in this.”
